Simple Wish
by ShinigamiMailJeevas
Summary: There are some things you should just not wish for- char. death etc. Halloween contest entry for MB


**AN**: Halloween contest entry for Guns and Games on MB. Beta has not seen this so please excuse anything I missed. I went over it multiple times...

**Disclaimer**: I do not own or make money from the anime/manga Death Note. The plot of this fic though, is mine.

Simple Wish

1 year ago

October 31st, 2004

He stood impatiently in front of the elderly inventor awaiting his sentencing, though he could hardly fathom what he was being accused of now and why Roger was not the one handing out the punishment. It was after all, Roger's office. Though it could be said that everything from the ground up was Mr. Wammys as he had funded and built the place. Details, details.

He had been taken from the hallway after Sundays half day of classes had concluded and asked by Mr. Wammy to follow him to Roger's office. He had expected the old coot to be sitting in his plush desk chair, wrinkled face set in a deep frown and ready to confront him; though honestly he had not attempted to maim Near all week nor gotten into any fights that would warrant it. Imagine his surprise when it was empty. So he stood there arms by his sides waiting, unable to discern why he was receiving such an awful look.

"I am afraid," Mr. Wammy paused, clearing his throat as though it was difficult to speak his mind "there has been an accident."

"An accident?" he questioned. Why was he being told this? There was no one other than Matt who he could honestly care about getting injured. "On the way back from town there was a car accident, one that Matt did not walk away from. Roger is being treated for some rather serious injuries but is expected to recover-" Mr. Wammy's words drifted in one ear and out the other after that.

Mello could not utter a single word. Could not process what he had head. Matt could not be dead, there was no possible way. "I just spoke with him this morning," he mumbled, eyes blinking furiously. There was no reason to get emotional. Matt would come bursting in and everything would be fine. Right?

Mr. Wammy placed a hand on his shoulder, voice low and soothing. "I am terribly sorry." the elderly inventor stated, genuinely appearing saddened.

"Matt, come on..." he trailed off when the words stuck in his throat. It wasn't funny, but Matt always played horrible jokes on him. He would give him a good kick to the nuts when he next saw him for doing this. Right?

"There is a package I believe he wanted you to have, you might not want to open it yet." the small box of special Halloween chocolate was held out but Mello's eyes could only focus on what looked like smears of blood on the outer wrapper.

"Oh God, Matt!" And he lost it.

Present Day

October 31st, 2005

Mello sat listlessly on the windows sill, staring out into the foggy gloom that was Winchester. He could easily hear the other residents of Wammys, mainly the smaller children but still some teens, having a good ol' time finishing up the decorations for both L's party and Halloween in general. He had only ever liked the western holiday because of the free chocolate and the go ahead for mischief.

He couldn't care about celebrating now, and even less about chocolate. Not on this day. Someone screamed outside his door, a shrill and honestly frightened scream. Then came the laughter.

Mello scowled deeply. It was as though everyone had forgotten what had happened on this day exactly one year ago. Like Matt's death did not matter in the least. He hated them all yet even the feeling of anger could not manifest over the vast _nothing_ he felt. There was an aching pain somewhere far inside, he was certain, but for the moment it was blanketed over by apathy. It was better than all those damn tears though, wasn't it?

The house therapist said it meant he was healing, that the grieving process was completing itself. That he would 'get over it'. Mello snorted. There was no getting over his best friends death, there was no healing. Underneath the metaphorical scar was a raw mass of bleeding tissue. He just refused to go to pieces over it. Not again.

There was a quiet knock on his door that he ignored. He knew who it was and what they were bringing for him. And just as expected the door opened a moment later with Mr. Wammy walking in, cake and supplies in hand. Mello watched him through the windows reflection as the mini cake was set on Matt's bed. They had never made him get another roommate and honestly he could not imagine what the outcome of that would have been had they tried.

"I brought this here so I could tell you that L is leaving tonight after his party. If you wish to see him you may want to attend." Mr. Wammy's expression was gentle; perhaps even what some would call soothing. "I would like to request that you try not to be so hard on Roger in the future, he is a little ill equip to deal with your antics now. Have a happy Halloween, good-day Mello."

Mello snorted once the room was to himself again. A happy Halloween? It was a sick joke. There was no such thing anymore. This time of year was tainted, cruel and unforgiving. His parents death in the fire in early November, Matt's at the end of October; there was nothing good about winter. If the season faded away into nothing he would be perfectly happy about it.

Moodily, Mello let his head rest against the windows pain. He knew that if the cake was here that it was almost time to get things ready yet he had no will to move from his perch. He would be celebrating in a way, yet it had nothing to do with Halloween or L's birthday.

Perhaps it was a little morbid of him to do, certainly if anyone other than Mr. Wammy knew the reasons he would never get that shrink off his back until he left the institution, but the cake was for Matt. For his death. Dropping his feet to the ground Mello shook off the stiffness that had crept into his muscles. Walking over to the bed he glanced at the clock and picked up the offered matches.

It was close to 3:59 pm; the exact time of Matt's death last year. Lighting the first candle he snuffed out the match, using the single burning wick to light the rest of the thirteen candles. Thirteen candles for thirteen years, and the number on this cake would never increase. With each new flickering light added, an apology was at Mello's lips.

There was guilt he never spoke of, never acknowledged.

He was the reason Matt had tagged along with Roger that afternoon. He had been punished for something he could no longer remember, confined to the house and not to step even an inch passed any of the doors. Matt knew he would not be allowed to participate in any of the outside activities, which included receiving chocolate; so he had gone out to get him something special for the night. Matt was always like that, treating him like the most important thing in his life.

The final candle was lit so Mello replaced it atop the cake. The cake itself was rather simple: chocolate striped frosting with a vanilla cake. Mello hated vanilla but Matt had loved it. The clock read 3:58 and his eyes closed.

He had expected darkness but he could only picture the one thing he wanted more than anything. _Wish__you__were__here__with__me._He took a breath and gently blew out the candles on Matt's death cake. Blew out the candles on his life.

He waited for a few seconds longer to open his eyes, not wanting to see the digital numbers staring at him in their blood red. As his eyes adjusted to being open again he could have sworn that something moved among the shadows across the room. When he took a closer look, squinting, there was nothing there.

Shaking his head, Mello gently took hold of the plastic fork that had been left for him, sat on Matt's bed and began to eat the cake. It was bittersweet.

He ate slowly and until there was only a plate full of crumbs left. The sky had grown dark and he could just vaguely hear the evenings activities kicking in. Throwing his legs over the edge of the bed he gathered the unused matches left behind; there would only be a few stragglers left inside so it was the perfect time to return the plate to the kitchens unnoticed.

Slipping into the hallway and not bothering to close his door Mello took a moment to adjust to the almost complete pitch darkness that greeted him as well as the coolness of the floor beneath his bare feet. He had forgotten it seemed that each year the whole of Wammys was transformed for this one night, more so than at any other time. With his vision minimally better he could make out the feint burning of the hanging torch lights set outside, each probably covered with something to make them seem dimmer than they should have been.

As he walked he was able to appreciate the silvery spider webbing that ran along portions of the walls and cutouts that he could only just make out. Each year things took on more of a haunted house appearance than before. Mello attributed it to the caretakers age as well as the children's excitement of possibly seeing L; the detective sometimes, cases providing, returned to Wammys for his birthday. Like this year.

All the way to the kitchens Mello came across not a single living soul; he assumed it meant L had not yet left. Pushing the doors open he shivered at the chill that greeted him. It felt as though someone had switched out the kitchen for a meat locker. He quickly deposited the plate into the sink and left the matches on the counter to be dealt with by whomever found them later.

Rubbing his arm Mello turned to leave but paused at an odd scratching sound coming from the walk in pantry; it sounded almost like an animal would if it were trapped and trying to get out. He took the few steps over to the sliding door and wrenched it open halfway expecting something to dart out by his feet. Yet there was nothing.

Staring into the darkness he could find no set of gleaming animal eyes either. Shrugging his shoulders he slid the door closed again but did not leave; instead a glass of water was on his mind. The cake had left his mouth aching from sweetness and it needed to be washed away before it bothered him all night long.

He filled a glass halfway and gulped it down, swishing the last portion around his mouth before spitting into the sink. The icy water had been refreshing and as he debated another half glass something slammed loudly behind him; the glass slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor, the pieces scattering on impact.

The pantry door was wide open with no one in sight to have opened it. His eyes scanned the dark, seeing nothing, ears hearing nothing. Nose wrinkling in distaste he looked down but was unable to see the broken glass. "Damn it," he swore with the knowledge that at least one shard would end up embedded in his feet. Yet short of waiting heaven knew how long for someone to need the kitchen and help him, there was no choice.

Gently shuffling his feet he felt glass brush against his toes, could hear it as it gathered in a pile in front as he moved. His foot slipped and he felt the sharp bite as his heal was cut. He stood there for a moment beside the open pantry that his path out of the kitchen took him by, debating whether he should attempt to take the shard out now or wait until he was out.

Deciding to suck it up and press on he had almost made it passed the pantry when something yanked his arm. He was pulled inside, crashing against the shelving and slipping in a heap on the floor. Disturbed food items pelted him as he sat stunned and unmoving. Something ran across his thigh; his leg jerked and hit the wall, knee throbbing.

There was a soft giggle somewhere in the darkness that sent fury coursing through him. "Who the hell is in here?" he shouted, teeth grit. It was some stupid Halloween prank that he was going to kick someone's ass over, it had to be.

His shirt lifted and the sensation of a hand creeping across his stomach startled him. Fear took over when he tried to push the hand away only to find nothing there and the sensation continuing. There was soft laughter, breath tickling his neck from behind where there was only shelving.

His leg was grabbed suddenly and he was being dragged out into the open seconds later. Mello frantically gripped the pantry door with a yell, nails digging into the wood hard enough to chip at them. It did not matter. He lost his grip and was pulled through the glass, leaving a streak of blood as his back was shredded.

Mello was lifted off the floor the moment his leg was free; a hand was at his neck as he was forced against the closest surface. The figure was pressed flush against him effectively pinning him in place. The moonlight slowly spread across the bottom half of the figures face from the window above the sink and Mello let out a silent gasp. The most unnatural grin greeted him, teeth glinting eerily.

The hand around his neck tightened with such force he thought his wind-pipe was going to be crushed. He was bent backwards until his head was in the sink and water from the faucet dripped into his eyes making his vision blurry.

He clawed furiously at his attacker, squirming, struggling and fighting desperately to get free. _He__couldn__'__t__breathe!_ One of his hands managed to land on the partially shadowed face, finding what felt like the eye socket. He pressed as hard as he could, his strength fading, heart pounding in his ears. Something squished, running over his fingers and the pressure on his throat was suddenly gone.

Dropping to the floor he crawled on hands and knees until his feet found purchase on the glass riddled floor; shards embedded in his feet he stood on wobbly legs. Choking, holding his throat and gasping painfully, Mello ran.

Stumbling out of the kitchen he went left at random; his vision was dark, spotted and unfocused in the dark hallway. His back bled down to the waistband of his jeans, soaking through his torn shirt. It was sticky and distracting and hurt like hell.

But he had gotten free.

As he ran through the hallways he noted how the small lit pumpkins that sat in the cracked open windows all seemed to have oddly possessed appearances. That they seemed to be watching him, eyes traveling with his form. Even the styrofoam skeletons that hung from doorways made him believe they would suddenly fly out at him. He blamed it on the scare he just had.

The next section of hallway was at the back of the house and had large paned windows; Mello thought it was so the caretakers could easily keep an eye on the children without going outside when the weather was unfavorable, which was always. The lights were out in that section of hallway too, however large portions were well enough lit from the activities going on outside to see.

He slowed to a light jog until he was in the light where he stopped to catch his breath.

Mello snorted softly. What the hell was he running for anyway? No one was chasing him, if they ever had been. He got away too easily to have been something serious; it had probably been one of the other teens messing with him. It was after all, Halloween. Though in the back of his mind he denied it vehemently. That had been more than messing with. _Far__more_.

Sweeping his hair back, the strands wild and out of place and in desperate need of a brushing, he took a shaky breath. He could hear the screams and answering laughter of the others somewhere in the field behind the house; though the sounds were a bit faded. He would have to go find the adults so one of them could tend to his injuries, a prospect he was hardly looking forward to.

Stepping to the edge of the light the floor creaked ominously behind him. Heart aching painfully in his chest he turned slowly to face whatever was there. His jaw dropped. "Matt?"

Blood randomly covered patches of his face, the pallor of which was sickly translucent. One eyelid was stuck at half mast, the actual eye appearing to have burst its fluid everywhere, and the other nearly bulging from the socket and surrounded by bruising. A hand flew to his mouth as Mello's gaze went lower. Matt's jaw was broken so badly that the bottom portion was nearly diagonal with the top. In places the skin and muscle had been stretched so far that it had literally torn, leaving pieces dangling and dripping fluid.

His body was littered with cuts, scrapes and blood. His hand was even missing a few fingers, so cleanly cut it had to have been an immediate thing, and probably by glass. Mello had not been told much about the accident but it did not look as though Matt had stayed inside the car throughout it. It was horrifying to look at.

The redhead took a shaky forward, a heavy limp making his movements like a marionette with its strings cut. Mello made the mistake off looking down and could not take his eyes off the mangled leg that greeted him. Below the knee the leg was twisted almost completely backwards in a way that did not even seem possible; the knee itself was crushed and made a crackling noise with each step taken. Mello felt sick. In shock, and sick.

"Hey, Mello." the voice Matt spoke with was sloppy, almost slurred. His throat gurgled with fluid as blood seeped from his mouth and slid down his chin. Mello took a step back. This was not happening. He had to be hallucinating, maybe even having lost his damn mind and dreaming it all.

"What's the matter Mello? You wanted me back, so here I am," Matt twisted his mouth into something grotesque, something that should never be called anything other than chilling.

"No, no this is all wrong. I didn't wish for this! I wanted you back alive not _this!__" _whatever 'this' was. Mello pinched himself just to be certain he was awake. It hurt. But he couldn't be, there was no way what he was seeing was real. He blinked away the tears that formed. Matt was dead. And this wasn't him. Couldn't be.

"Maybe you should have been more specific?" Matt hobbled over to him, head cocked to the side oddly as if studying him. Mello couldn't move away. He was stuck halfway in retreat, foot out behind him. The thought was with him: W_hat__if__it_was_Matt_? What if he had called him back? What if it was all his fault?

It was a nightmare, it really was.

The look in Matt's eyes shifted and he lunged. With a shocked yell Mello threw out his hands to push him away, to hit him, do something to protect himself. Matt had always been a lazy gamer and never able to win any sort of physical confrontation, so it should have been easy. But it wasn't the same. Mello's punch was caught between the bloody hand with missing fingers, the grip strong.

With a grainy laugh that teetered on disturbing, teeth were sunk into his arm.

Mello instinctively yanked his arm back; the only thing processing in his mind was that he had to get free. There seemed to be no real intention of holding onto him as Matt's teeth slid free easily, grazing fresh lines of blood down his arm. Holding the appendage close to his chest Mello stumbled backwards, turning to run. Mello had no idea why the teeth were so sharp-like an animals-when they still appeared normal. _He__just__couldn't__understand__the__entire__situation._

His stomach dropping out and for the long moment that he fell toward the ground Mello could not figure out what had happened. Not even as he slammed into the wood flooring. He had not tripped, had not been hit, had not-

The hand at his ankle held him in place as he was flipped over and Matt crawled up his body, hovering above him with that grotesque smirk. His arms were trapped between their chests as Matt leaned in, tongue dangling out to lick at his neck. Mello shuddered as the muscle was run over his flesh; it was hot and sticky as well as distracting. He only began to panic as the set of teeth touched his skin.

Matt bit down and he screamed. He tried pushing Matt away from him, hitting him, thrashing his body. Nothing worked and he felt blood spread from the bite as more pressure was applied. "Matt, let go!"

His foot hit something as he kicked out, he couldn't see what, so he kept kicking it. Matt pulled back abruptly, fresh blood on his lips and stared at him in annoyance. Mello looked past his face to what he was hitting and choked in repulsion as Matt's mangled leg fell clean off. Literally dropped off his body and rolled across the floor; Matt fell flush against him. "That wasn't nice," Matt droned, tongue sliding over his wet gore covered face.

Mello managed to wedge a hand free and smacked the palm against Matt's chin to keep him and his mouth at a distance. His eyes searched frantically around for something to use to his advantage. But he was in the hallway and the only things around were the pumpkins in the window. They were too far away to be useful.

Mello watched in slow motion as his hand, Matt's skin being far too bloody to keep hold of, slid out of place. Only a loud snap told of what happened next as Mello could not utter a single sound; mouth open in a gasp he watched blood spurt from the stubs of his fingers that had just been bitten off. His chest heaved in shock. It was difficult to breathe. His fingers were gone. They were fucking _gone_. "Hmmm," Matt sighed contentedly as he licked at them. Lapped at them like some animal. His gaze suddenly swiveled to meet Mello's.

"Had you kept running earlier you might have made it," and Matt leaned down for the kill. Teeth tore into Mello's neck again and again until the main artery was gnashed open. There was no way to scream as blood filled his airways. He could literally feel himself bleeding out.

Fighting soon became pointless. His body was too weak and his arms was easily pushed aside. He was soaked in his own blood; it surrounded him. He almost couldn't even feel the teeth working at him anymore. Everything was slipping away, becoming hazy.

His eyes fluttered as he turned his head. He watched Matt for a moment before he stilled completely, heart slowing to a stop.

"Some things should never be wished for. You never know which ones will come true," Matt gave a small awkward kiss to Mello's cheek before digging out an eyeball with a grim smile. It 'popped' in his mouth when he bit down, leaving him satisfied.

As the first dregs of daylight began to filter into the sky Matt sat up. His gaze was on Mello's corpse as he faded into dust, the wish loosing its power the morning after it was cast.

-The End-

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